


Howdy Chérie

by KoreFanFic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alcohol, Almost Kiss, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ashe - Freeform, Bar Fight, Cold Feet, Drinking, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fighting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Mild Angst, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ouihaw, Overwatch - Freeform, Smut, Swearing, Widowmaker, amélie is sad, ashe is drunk and bitter, ashe is mad, ashe is offended, ashe is pissed, bar brawl, pre-wedding jitters, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreFanFic/pseuds/KoreFanFic
Summary: Five times Ashe and Widowmaker meet and one time they don't.May or may not end up having smut I haven't decided yet.
Relationships: Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix
Comments: 38
Kudos: 86





	1. The Bar Job

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently been turned onto the Ouihaw ship (fabulous name!) and I am in love with these characters! I really hope I do them both justice with this fic! I'm excited to write something different! Please let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> Thank you to [Morgan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyInsignificantHumans) for betaing and also for putting up with me not shutting the f*ck up about this ship since I got hooked on them! It's only going to get worse and I'm sorry for you sweetie!

Ashe surveyed the busy bar as she sipped her glass of whiskey, the ice rattling around gently as she tilted it up to her red painted lips. She didn’t like being in such a crowded place, but the stern, unapproachable scowl carved into her face made sure all the snooty shits were giving her a wide berth, so she had plenty of room to breath and examine the people around her.

All of them were dressed to the nines, covered from head to toe in fancy clothes and jewellery. Jewellery they wouldn’t have for much longer, not once her boys came in and kindly, or not depending on if they all done as they were told, relieved them of their wares. After all, the expensive-looking gems and chains all looked so very heavy and Ashe couldn’t just stand by and let these very important, privileged people carry all that weight. She was doing them a service really. They should be paying her to rob them. 

She turned to face the bar, draining the last of her drink and licking her lips, the taste of her lipstick mixing with the bitter alcohol and lifted her empty glass, waving it at the barman for a refill. He trotted over, a little faster than he did for any of the other patrons and took her glass, quickly replacing it with a fresh one, full of amber liquid and ice.

Ashe nodded towards him in thanks as she lifted the glass to her lips and watched him scuttle back down the bar to serve someone else. She clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth as she turned back to face the room, her piercing red eyes gracefully moving from person to person, assessing how much their pretty shiny pieces were worth. 

She was about halfway through counting up the room, and at a pretty promising price already when a flash of blue caught her eye from the entrance. A woman, tall and slim, strutted into the room, her chin held high, her long dark raven coloured hair falling down her back, stopping midway down her thighs from its high ponytail. A fitted deep purple dress hugged the woman’s body, clinging to each curve and bend of her, gripping onto her delicate waist like its life depended on it, not that Ashe could blame it. She’d be doing the same if she was in the dresses position. 

There was something oddly familiar about the blue-skinned woman that was niggling at the back of Ashe's mind as she watched her approach the bar. She came right up beside Ashe, had placed her elbows on the bar and waved for the barman’s attention and Ashe got a good look at her from behind. She eyes trailed down the woman’s open-backed dress, which revealed a large black spider tattoo, and continued further down until she reached her perfectly round ass, which the dress was also wisely clutching like a prized possession. And that was when it hit her. Only one person in the whole world had an ass like that. 

“Amélie?” Ashe called out, her accent as thick as it always was.

The woman’s head snapped around, her long ponytail flicking out behind her and hazel eyes, somehow more yellow than Ashe remembered them, narrowed as she looked Ashe up and down. For a moment she glowered at her, her thin eyebrows furrowing, her glossy purple lip curling slightly like she had never seen the white-haired woman next to her before and for a brief second Ashe thought she had made a mistake, but as she opened her mouth to apologise a look of recognition flashed through Amélie’s eyes and she took in a sharp breath.

“Elizabeth?” She asked, her heavy accent making the name sound almost bearable to Ashe’s ears. Almost.

“Ashe,” She corrected her, her eyes giving the woman another once over. She looked different. And not just the skin. Everything was different. The way she had walked across the room, her posture as she leaned on the bar. Hell, even her scent was different. Ashe had always remembered her as smelling of roses and caramel, sometimes with a hint of leather if she’d been dancing that day. But now she was giving off a strange, almost bitter scent, like copper and something else that Ashe couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t unpleasant it was just alarming, making the hairs on the backs of her arms stand on end.

“Ashe,” She nodded gently as the barman approached them both, Amélie opened her mouth to order but Ashe cut her off, tilting her head a fraction over her shoulder at the barman. 

“She’ll have a glass of Malbec,” She told him casually, hiding her amusement when Amélie turned to look at her in surprise. “That’s right ain’t it?” She added, cocking a dark eyebrow at her.

“It’s pronounced Mahl-Behk,” Her French accent made the simple word sound so exciting and it reminded Ashe of how she used to mock her for butchering the names of the different types of wines whenever she’d tried to teach her them. “But yes,” Amélie nodded at the barman who ran off to fetch her drink. “I’m surprised you remembered that. I’m surprised you remembered me,” she admitted and Ashe had to fight to stop herself looking offended. 

“Like I was ever going to forget you,” Ashe muttered, taking a small sip from her glass, before licking her teeth and turning her eyes away from Amélie. 

The barman returned with her drink and Ashe told him to stick it on her tab, not that she was going to be paying for it anyway. 

The two women sat in silence for a few moments, Ashe leaning her elbows on the bar as her eyes drifted across the many faces around her but she wasn’t paying attention to them now. She was trying not to turn back to the woman sipping her wine quietly next to her, trying not to look back and let her eyes drag up and down her long leg that was visible through the thigh-high slit in her dress.

Amélie sighed and Ashe’s eyes flicked towards her immediately, watching her from the corners of her heavily lined eyes.

“I always thought you would be in a prison cell somewhere by now,” Amélie said quietly as she placed her glass back on the bar, licking the wine away from her lips and Ashe pretended that the motion didn’t make something in her gut burn horribly. 

  
“Please, we both know I’m too smart to get caught,” She smirked, lifting her glass to her lips.

“Oui, you always were very clever,” Amélie purred, running her finger around the edge of the glass. Ashe’s eyes were drawn to the rest of her hand and she noticed the absence of her wedding ring, making Ashe’s eyebrows jerk upwards without warning. 

“What happened to the husband? I promise I’m not still mad at the only man I’ve ever lost a woman too,” Her painted lip curled upwards as half a chuckle escaped her throat, trying to cover her lie. 

Amélie’s shoulders noticeably stiffened and her finger stopped in its trip around her glass as she lowered her eyes to the polished wood of the bar, before she took in a deep breath.

“Nothing,” She said shortly, the single word laced in melancholy and Ashe felt her lips part a fraction as her head fell to the side gently. Amélie had said it herself, Ashe was clever, but it didn’t take a clever person to figure out that “Nothing” meant “something” and that something wasn’t pleasant. 

“I’m sorry,” Ashe breathed, swallowing the newly formed lump in her throat as she turned to look back at the room.

“Sorry for what exactly?” Amélie frowned up at her, her dark hair swinging out behind her again. 

“Nothing,” Ashe said simply, their eyes locked for a minute and Ashe noticed the sounds of the room around her dull slightly as she focused in on her old “friend”. She was still as beautiful as she had been years ago, a fact that stung Ashe a little. How was it fair that she got to stay perfect? Why did she get to stay as this personification of beautiful, even if she was blue now?

“So, what’s with the body paint? You got one of your dancing show things?” Ashe pried, her eyes dragging up and down her again, using the body paint comment as an excuse.

“Ballet,” Amélie corrected her with a half-hearted chuckle, sipping her wine again.

“That’s what I said,” Ashe said matter-of-factly with a straight face.

They made eye contact again before they both laughed, Amélie’s laugh filling Ashe’s stomach with butterflies just like it used to. The deep, throaty sound was a sound she had missed hearing over the years.

“No, I gave that up a long time ago,” Amélie told her when she’d stopped laughing, a mournful smile creeping across her face as she again stared down at the bar, her fingers playing idly with the stem of her wine glass. 

“Why’d you do that for? You were so good at it!” Ashe’s voice rose slightly, a few of the other patrons turning to glare at her before they turned back to their conversations. If she hadn’t been so focused on Amélie, she would have given them the finger.

“How would you know?” Amélie challenged her, raising a questioning eyebrow at her over her shoulder.

“I might have snuck into one or two of your little shows every now and then,” Ashe replied sheepishly, dipping her chin to her chest as she took a drink from her glass to hide her face from the now smirking Amélie.

“Now why would you go and do that? I thought you had no time for my “Silly prancin’ about,”” She tried to imitate Ashe’s southern accent and the sound made Ashe snort into her whiskey.

“Curiosity killed the cat and all that. Plus, I wanted to see if you were as good as that snobby attitude of yours implied,” Ashe rolled her eyes at her, her mouth twisting upwards as she clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth. 

“And you thought I was good?” Amélie pried, her brilliant eyes glinting in the dim light of the bar.

“Your ego wasn’t unjust,” Ashe admitted with another roll of her eyes. “It was still fucking annoying though,” She added in a mutter.

Amelie chuckled next to her and Ashe’s eyes flashed over to her. 

“Merci. You never did like being around confident people,” Amélie added with a shake of her head.

“Is that so?” Ashe narrowed her eyes at her, rolling her tongue under her teeth.

“It is. I think it made you feel threatened. Like your authority was being challenged,” Amélie said casually, looking up at the colourful bottles behind the bar as she lifted her glass to her lips again just as Ashe let out a growl from her throat. 

“You’re full of shit Amelie,” Ashe scowled, pretending she wasn’t offended by the beautiful woman’s insinuation. 

“Oh am I? Or am I, how did you used to say it, right on the money?” She didn’t bother trying to mirror Ashe’s accent this time, letting her natural voice make the sentence sound all kinds of appealing to Ashe’s ears as she leaned her blue chin on the back of her hand and smiled up at her devilishly, her thin eyebrows wiggling daringly at her. 

Ashe opened her mouth to respond, something witty and biting, but the words died in her throat and instead she was left gaping down at Amélie, her mind wandering briefly to wonder if her blue lips felt the same as they did when they were peach coloured. Did kissing her still feel like diving into a cold lake on a hot summers day? Did she still taste like fancy cakes and rich wine?

She tore her eyes away from the woman’s lips, her lip curling back into a scowl as she lifted her glass to her lips again. 

“Pffft. You might be all different on the outside but you’re still the same little shit you always were Elie,” She scoffed, using the old nickname only Ashe had been allowed to call her. From the corner of her eye, she caught the sight of Amélie’s chest hitching slightly, her lips parting a faction at Ashe’s words.

Ashe stared out into the room, busier now, more rich socialites covered in jewellery ripe for the picking and she cleared her throat, remembering why she was in this damned bar in the first place.

“You might want to finish your drink and high-tail it out of here. ‘Cause in about seven minutes, my boys will be in here to swipe these smug bastards of their shiny bits. And if you cherish that necklace around your pretty neck, you might want to leave,” Ashe warned her quietly, lowering her voice so only Amelie could hear her. 

“Surely you are past the point of petty thievery by now?” Amélie pried, her tone tinted with teasing as she eyed Ashe from the corner of her eye.

“We are. We’re just passing through and figured we’d have some fun on our way out of town. Been a while since we stole somethin’ just for the sake of it,” Ashe clarified. Amélie nodded, drained the last of her wine and placed the glass down elegantly before she pushed herself off the bar and turned to leave.

“Au revoir, Ashe,” She said softly. She reached over and placed a hand on Ashe’s shoulder and the white-haired woman jumped, almost dropping her glass as the chill from Amélie’s skin seeping through her shirt and into her bones, sending a violent shiver down her spine. 

“You’re ice cold!” She declared in a yelp, her eyes going wide as she looked from the blue hand on her shoulder to the soft yellow eyes.

“You always did say I was a cold-hearted bitch,” She reasoned quietly, squeezing her shoulder gently, deepening the icy feeling that ran through Ashe’s body before she let her hand fall away from her and she headed for the exit. 

Ashe watched her go, her eyes stuck to the back of her swinging ponytail as she sashayed towards the door. Ashe was met with an almost overwhelming urge to chase after her, to grab her by the hand, pull her back and crush their lips together just one more time, because chances were she was never seeing her ever again. But then again she’d thought that the last time she’d seen her. And she hadn’t kissed her then either. 

Just as Amélie reached the door, a large mech came stomping through, his tiny bowler hat sat crookedly on his shiny silver head. His bright green eyes caught the sight of Amélie, and he stepped back, holding the door for her, tilting his hat as she looked up to smile at him in thanks as she slid past him. 

After she was safely out of the door, Bob let it swing shut, before barging his way, unapologetically through the mass of people towards his boss. He leaned his thick metallic arm on the bar, making it creak in complaint, nodding down to Ashe to confirm everything was ready.

She nodded back in response, lifting her almost empty glass and letting the last of the whiskey fall directly into her mouth, the last surviving ice cube dropping on to her tongue. She lifted her head and crunched the ice between her teeth, grinding it down under she could swallow it before she dropped her glass on to the bar. 

A minute later the door to the bar was kicked open as her men came barrelling in, shouting and brandishing their guns at the screaming people around them. One of them ran across the room, handing Ashe her rifle and she took it with a nod, climbing up onto the bar and firing a shot into the ceiling to get the rooms attention. 

“Alright! Listen carefully. A few of my boys here are going to be walking 'round each of you with a big ol’ sack. Drop your shiny shit and wallets into it quietly and no one gets hurt and we’ll be out your ridiculously styled hair in no time,” She bellowed out around her. 

A tall man with a thick black moustache scowled at her, stormed over to the bar and began yelling at her. She rolled her eyes at him as he screamed about how she “won’t get away with this” and they “aren’t going to do what she says”. 

She rolled her shoulders before she lifted her rifle, slamming the butt of it into his nose, the sound of it breaking echoing around the room. 

“Like I said: Do as yer told and no one gets hurt. Exhibit A,” She waved her hand at the bleeding man who was on his knees, cradling his nose as the streams of blood soaking into his fancy shirt. 

Ten minutes later and the Deadlock gang were leaving, bags full of jingling necklaces and watches, piling into the dark street and into the two stolen cars they’d parked outside. Ashe’s eyes glanced up for just a second, catching the sight of blue and purple from across the street. 

Amélie was leaning against a wall, one leg propped up, sticking out of the slit in her dress, one arm folded underneath her chest as she lifted a lit cigarette to her lips and even from across the street, Ashe could see the faint glint of wetness on her cheeks. 

She stalled, her heart dropping into her stomach as she considered for a second, crossing the street to her, but that thought was promptly interrupted as she was roughly pushed into the car by Bob’s cold metal hands.

As their driver pulled away, Ashe’s eyes darted up to the rear-view mirror just in time to see a thin streak of raven hair vanish around a corner.

As the rest of her men cheered and hollered with the rush of the job going off as planned, Ashe sat quietly in the back seat, biting down hard on her tongue, getting lost in the memories of years ago.


	2. 5 Years Earlier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amélie tries her wedding dress on to try calm her nerves for her upcoming wedding and gets an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to my wonderful bestie [Morgan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyInsignificantHumans) for betaing this! She's a star!  
> And I might have totally dragged her into Overwatch fanfiction by accident and we MIGHT be talking about working on fic together that has not only Ouihaw but McSombra too!   
> Maybe... We totally are.  
> Anyway I hope you enjoying this chapter set five years before the last one!

Amélie frowned. The pale-skinned woman staring back at her done the same. She barely recognised herself in the mirror but she knew it was her. She knew those hazel eyes, narrowed in worry, were hers, knew the long black hair that was pulled up into a loose bun was her own, knew the slender fingers that were wringing themselves sore were hers. Yet the woman standing in the mirror didn't feel like her and she was pretty sure she knew why it felt so strange.

It was the dress.

The crisp white dress with its long tulle skirt, spreading down to sweep across the floor, dotted with exquisite lace detailing. Its beautiful sweetheart bodice that was covered in more of the same pretty lace hugged her torso and chest, and although it wasn’t too tight, the dress was made to fit her perfectly after all, she still felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

Her hazel eyes scanned herself once more, going from the top of her head all the way down to where her bare feet were hiding underneath the skirt of the dress. Amélie swallowed hard at the solid lump that was stuck in the back of her throat, afraid to open her mouth from fear the lump would fall and take her hammering heart with it. 

_It’s just nerves. Completely normal. Everyone gets like this before their wedding. I’m sure Gérard is feeling the exact same way_ , Amélie told herself as she smoothed her trembling fingers over the soft material of the dress. She took in a deep breathe, which didn’t seem to quite reach her lungs as she placed her hands over the bodice of the dress, letting it out in a long sigh. 

She had thought putting the dress on would have eased her nerves for the week ahead of her, but she had been wrong. Seeing herself in the perfectly chosen, made to fit dress was making her worse. It riled up the butterflies in her stomach, sending them into overdrive as they all seemed to be fighting among themselves underneath her bodice. 

_Maybe the corset straps are too tight?_ She thought idly, turning herself so she could glimpse the back.

A sharp inhale from behind her made her jump, spinning around on the spot to face her open balcony door. 

Long white hair caught her attention first, followed by the piercing red eyes that were looking her up and down, scarlet painting lips hanging open in awe. 

“Well, shit. You scrub up not to bad there Elie,” the woman nodded, slouching against the door frame.

“Elizabeth! You startled me!” Amélie gasped, frowning at her in annoyance. 

“That makes two of then don’t it?” She breathed, her eyes still appreciating Amélie in her dress. “And for the thousandth time, it’s Ashe,” She added, although her tone wasn’t as biting as it usually was when she corrected her. 

Amélie’s frown deepened as she folded her arms across her chest, mainly to stop the ridiculous thing from burst out onto the floor. 

“It’s rude to climb in a lady's window without asking, you know?” She remarked, lifting her chin as she looked Ashe over disapprovingly. The outlaw was leaning against the door frame, Amélie’s thin white curtains billow out behind her like a scene from a movie, her long white hair tossed over one shoulder, her black waistcoat hanging open to reveal her crisp white shirt, her tie hanging low on her chest, one arm crossed over her chest, the other lifted a half-empty bottle of whiskey to her painted lips. 

Ashe snorted, halting the bottle a few inches from her lips as her crimson eyes finally met Amélie’s. They were glassy, slightly unfocused. She was very drunk. Which was concerning as Ashe was normally someone you could count on to hold their liquor better than anyone. 

“A lady? Well, I must be in the wrong room, my ‘pologies,” She scoffed, bringing the bottle to her lips and tilting her head back to pour the alcohol into her mouth.

“Please don’t start with me today. I’m in no mood,” Amélie begged with a sigh.

“Are you ever?” Ashe let her arm fall back down, the weight of the bottle doing most of the work as she licked her lips and raised a thin eyebrow at her.

“I’m serious!” Amélie snapped, her cheeks flaming for a moment. 

“Getting cold feet?” Ashe smirked, her tone amused. She clearly found Amélie’s distress entertaining. 

“No! Of course not!” She bit back, a little too quickly but followed it up with a sigh, letting her hands fall to her sides before adding, “Maybe. It’s just nerves.”

“Ya worried the ol’ boy’s gonna run off with one of your twenty bridesmaids?” Ashe half chuckled into her bottle, taking another drink and eyeing Amélie over the rim of the bottle.

Amélie stared back at her, chewing on the inside of her cheek as her upper lip curled at her.

“Well, I am now! And I don’t have twenty bridesmaids! I have six!” She corrected with a forced, unamused smile. 

Ashe nodded, her eyes going hard as she frowned at the woman standing in front of her.

“Right. Six people, you barely fuckin’ know, meanwhile I don’t even get an invite?” She remarked, tilting her bottle at Amélie before she swung more whiskey back her throat. She was clearly unhappy. Amélie had never seen her drink so fast before.

“You know fine well I couldn’t invite you, Ashe. Is that why you are here? To tell me you’re offended in person?” Amélie’s eyes dropped to the floor, she couldn’t look at her. The guilt had already kept her up for weeks. She couldn’t face it much more. 

“No,” Ashe bit sharply, before going to take another drink. She stopped just long enough to look Amélie over once more. “Maybe,” She scoffed, bringing the bottle back to her lips. Again. 

Amélie swallowed hard, her words sitting just on the tip of her tongue but her mouth wouldn’t open, it felt like it was wired shut, stopping her from saying anything she might regret. 

Ashe sighed, dropping her arm to her side again. She pushed herself off the doorframe with a wobble and crossed the room, throwing herself into the large armchair next to Amélie’s mirror, swinging her long leather wrapped legs over the arm and letting her head fall backwards, her long hair falling over the other arm like a snow-white waterfall. 

Amélie sighed as Ashe’s red eyes stared lazily at her ceiling. 

“I’m sorry you aren’t invited. But it would have been unfair to have you there,” Amélie explained quietly, her voice thick with regret.

“Pfft. Unfair on who? Yer future hubby? Or you?” Ashe snorted, watching her from the corner of her eye. 

“On you,” Amélie corrected her, taking in a sharp breath through her nose. Ashe snorted again, turning her head back to the ceiling. 

“Right. Cause you cared so much about my feelings before,” Ashe mocked, her voice thick with malice. 

“I did! I still do!” Amélie countered, a bundle of nerves twitching under her left eye like it always did when Ashe frustrated her. 

“Uh-huh. Pull the other one, Elie. If you cared, you’d have told me in person you were getting married to a business suit prick from the city,” She half growled, lifting her head to take another drink. 

“Don’t call him names!” Amélie snapped impulsively, clenching her fists at her sides. 

“See? You care about his feelings and he’s not even ‘ere,” Ashe pointed out dryly. 

“I do care about your feelings!” Amélie’s voice was higher now, her throat hurting at the uncommon outburst.

Ashe spun in the chair, with surprising grace considering how intoxicated she was, planting her boots on the carpet with a loud thud, her red eyes narrowed as she looked up at Amélie, a snarl curling her lips. 

“Then why did you tell me you were gettin’ married in a fuckin’ post-it note?” She accused, her voice icy and hard, ever word cutting into Amélie like a blade. 

She scowled back before turning her back on the livid cowgirl and storming towards her large dresses behind her. 

What did she know? 

Amélie wasn’t about to tell Ashe how hard it was for her to write that letter. Wasn’t going to tell her how many times she had torn it up and rewrote it after saying the wrong thing. How many times she’d smeared the ink with her own tears by accident and had to start again. How raw her eyes had been from crying, how her hands had seized up from staying up all night trying to write that damned letter to her. Ashe didn’t need to know that. 

She didn’t need to know how much Amélie really cared for her. And she never would because Amélie would be damned if she was going to give the hot-headed woman any hint of just how much she haunted her. 

Amélie knew if she gave Ashe any hint of how she felt that Ashe would pick her up, with one scarily strong arm, and carry her out the balcony doors and throw her over the back of that ridiculously loud motorcycle and drive off with her.

She couldn’t leave her fiancée at the altar. She couldn’t live a life on the run. Hiding in abandoned buildings and robbing trains for the rest of her life. That wasn’t what she wanted from her life. She wanted to be settled down, carefree and happy, with a home she could come back to every night after long days of ballet practice. She wanted to spend her weekdays preparing for big shows on the weekends, wanted to have friends round for drinks and gossip while her partner was out at work. 

Amélie’s mind swam with an image, of her on a pretty white veranda with her ballet friends, drinking wine in the setting sun. 

Behind her, a door opens as the sound of her lover coming home meets her ears.

“Welcome home Chérie,” She calls out over her shoulder. A warm hand on her shoulder. Soft lips press against her cheek. 

“Glad to be back. How was your day Ellie?” Ashe asks as her long white hair falls over her suited shoulder.

Amélie stopped, her hands hovering over her wardrobe handle. She was being ridiculous. Getting her wires crossed. She couldn’t have those things with Ashe. So she would have them with Gerard. Who she loved. Yes. The man she loved was going to give her the things she wanted. While the woman she loved was getting more and more drunk in her armchair behind her. Who needed to leave before someone found her in Amélie’s room.

“I’m going to get changed out of this thing,” Amélie muttered, looking over her shoulder, catching the briefest sight of Ashe’s hand wiping at her eye. 

“Don't mind me” Ashe smirked, giving her a crooked smirk.

“I do mind. Can you please leave?” Amélie asked gently, trying her best not to take the request back. She didn’t want her to leave. But she needed to. For both their sakes.

“Why? S’not like I’ve not seen it all before. That’s why am not invited to the big day right?” Ashe remarked bitingly, but some of her venom was gone, replaced by something more sombre.

“Elizabeth. please?” Amélie breathed, fighting back the sting in her eyes.

“Fine. Whatever. But I didn’t come all this way just to make you feel bad,” Ashe muttered as she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling slightly.

“Oh?” Amélie turned to face her, curiosity getting the best of her like it always did with Ashe.

“I came to give you this.” Ashe dug a hand into her pocket and pulled out a small box, holding it up to show her it before she threw it onto the bed in front of her. 

“What’s that?” Amélie asked pointedly, eyeing the little blue box.

“Wedding present,” Ashe muttered, the word “wedding” sounding forced and painful as she took another long drink from her bottle.

“What poor unfortunate soul did you rob that from?” Amélie asked, giving her a half-smile.

“I didn’t steal it,” Ashe snapped quietly and Amélie felt her eyes widen in genuine disbelief. 

“Really?” Amélie pried, her chest feeling hollow as she looked Ashe over.

“Yeah. Oh. Anyway, just cause you didn’t have the balls to invite me to your party, didn’t mean I was gonna skimp out on a gift,” She tilted her head to the side as she shrugged, not meeting Amélie’s eyes.

“Well, thank you, Elizabeth. I really appreciate it,” Amélie told her earnestly. It was true. Whatever was in that box she knew already she was going to keep it forever.

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll leave ya alone now. And stop calling me Elizabeth. I told you I hate it,” She lifted her eyes to glare at her but it didn’t hold the same iciness it usually did. It seemed more muted, wounded almost. 

“I’m sorry,” Amélie breathed shakily, clenching her fingers to hide the tremors running through them and up her arms, rattling her chest.

“It’s fine. You forget. It happens,” Ashe reached up to scratch the back of her neck as she kicked her boot at nothing on the carpet.

“That’s not what I meant,” Amélie admitted, her knees shaking under her dress and she was suddenly grateful for all the layers of tulle around her.

Ashe’s eyes snapped up at her, still glassy from the whiskey. She wobbled on her feet again, but quickly catching herself and lifting her chin up defiantly. 

“Yeah. Well anyway. Good luck with the whole wedding thing. I guess I won't be seeing ya any more,” Ashe cleared her throat, dragging her eyes towards the open balcony door.

“It’s bad luck to tell a performer good luck,” Amélie pointed out softly. 

“Is it?” Ashe muttered.

“Oui,” Amélie nodded.

“Good luck,” Ashe muttered, licking her teeth as she headed for the door, not looking back.

Amélie watched as Ashe vanished through the door, her thin white curtains fluttering in the breeze. 

She stood in silence, listening to the sound of Ashe cursing and hissing as she climbed back down to the street. The horrifically loud sound of her motorbike rattled the doors of her wardrobe right after Amélie heard the distinct sound of Ashe yelling at Bob to get moving.

Amélie finally gave in to her tears, letting them silently roll down her cheeks as the sound she normally hated so much faded into the distance and with it so did the woman she was in love with.


	3. Spilled Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe is looking to stir up trouble. She did not expect it to be this kind of trouble.

Ashe was drunk. Again. 

She was silently contemplating how much trouble she could get her and her butler turned partner in crime, Bob into before dawn. The big metal man would go along with anything she asked. Well, as long as it didn’t involve horses. Bob hated horses. Not that she could blame him. They were funny looking things. And they stank. Why did they have to smell so bad? 

The gang leader took another drink from her whiskey, hazy eyes scanning the lively street around them from her perch on Bob’s shoulder. People were pouring in and out of the many bars, some stumbling, some shouting but everyone having a relatively good time. The rest of her gang were all out doing their own thing, getting some downtime before they headed out again, their plans to rob a passing military train all laid out and ready to go. Tonight was the calm before the storm. Ashe didn’t like calm. She liked the storm. It was familiar. Warm. Calm was cold, cruel and usually meant she was being watched. 

She took another long drink from her whiskey bottle and waved her hand in front of Bob's face to get his attention.

“What do ya say, Bob? Should we try set off some fireworks tonight?” She called down to him. He turned his head to look up at her, his glowing green eyes blinking with a quiet robotic buzz in response. 

“Not actual fireworks ya big lug! I meant: let’s have some fun!” She clarified as she smacked the back of her hand off his hard shoulder with a clang. She hissed and gave her hand a shake when a faint ache ran up her forearm.

Bob stared up at her in silence.

“Come on! I’m bored! The rest of the boys are all off doing their own shit. Let’s do something just the two of us? Like good ol’ times?” She drawled, her words slightly slurred from the whiskey, tilting her head to the side and smiling at him playfully.

Bob blinked up at her again.

“’At’s the spirit!” She mumbled as she patted his arm, sliding gracefully down his large back and landing on the ground with a thump.

They two friends strolled down the busy street, peering in the open doors of the bars they passed, trying to find one that looked like fun. After a while they settled, well Ashe settled, on a bar that was packed from wall to wall with people and mechs watching a sports game. What sport, she didn’t know, but that wasn’t why she was there. Their chalkboard on the street had advertised the cheapest drink list she’d seen all night. And she was a sucker for a cheap drink.

She pushed and shoved her way through the crowd, Bob following in behind her, tipping his apologetically at the people Ashe was moving aside, finally reaching the drink stained bar and waving the barman over.

He got to them eventually, quickly pouring their drinks when Ashe barked her order at him. She tossed a few coins at him over the bar and watched as he jogged off to serve someone else. Bob stood beside her, watching the busy bar around them as Ashe took a drink from her glass. 

A man stumbled into her shoulder, making her spill her drink and she hissed loudly, turning her head to scowl over her shoulder at the idiot. He looked her up and down before he scoffed and tried to stumble away. Ashe pressed her lips together in a hard line, reaching her hand out and grabbing him by the back of the neck, dragging him over to the bar with a grunt. 

“You spilled my drink,” She pointed to the half-empty glass and the pool of whiskey around it. The man barely glanced at it before he rolled his eyes at her and tried to shrug her off him, but she didn’t let go, instead, tightening her grip and pushing his chest down onto the bar.

“Ge’ off me!” He grumbled, pulling his hands up and trying to push himself off the bar. 

“You owe me another one,” Ashe explained shortly, cocking her head to the side as she screwed up her lips.

“I don’t owe you shit. Lemme go bitch!” The man growled, trying to wiggle free of her grip. 

Ashe rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue off the roof of her mouth before she let go of his neck. He straightened himself up, tugged on his wrinkled blue shirt in triumph and looking down his nose at her with a smug grin. 

It didn’t last long though as Ashe pulled her hand back, grabbed the back of his head and threw the ass-hole face-first into the bar with a thunderous bang that echoed around the noisy bar. Every head in the bar turned to face her, no one saying a word as the sound of the TV screens and the man’s muffled complaints into his hands were the only thing to be heard. 

A hand shot out towards her face from her left but stopped short as large metal fingers curled around the hand and stopped it, the sound of bones cracking as Bob gripped the man’s fist, which had been aimed directly at Ashe’s face. 

Half a second later and the entire bar was in chaos. Fists and bottles were flying around left and right, people yelling and swearing as everyone hit out blindly, not caring who they connected with. Ashe ducked, avoiding a beer bottle that flew at her head, punching a random man in the face when she came back up, knocking him backwards and into a large man who turned and slammed his fist into the back of his head. 

Ashe felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned just in time to feel pain flash through her jaw and she stumbled backwards. 

It went on like that for a while, Ashe punching and kicking her way through the people, not caring who she connected with or what direction she ended up going. At one point she came face to face with the idiot who’d spilled her drink, dried blood flaking from under his nose.

His lip curled up in a snarl, revealing bloodied teeth and Ashe smirked back as she reached out, grabbed him the shoulder and smashed her forehead into his face, hearing a satisfying crack at the same time as she felt her teeth grind together painfully. 

Soon she found herself exchanging punches with a large, crossed eye, bald man. He threw a punch into her gut, making her double over as the air was knocked out of her lungs. Another fist connected with her face, uppercutting her and sending her flying onto her back.

She blinked, her vision blurring for a second as she tried to regain her focus. A swirl of blue and purple danced just out of focus and she clenched her eyes tightly again, trying to force herself to see straight. 

“Bonjour, Ashe,” came a thick French accent from above her head. 

Ashe opened her eyes, frowning up into the pretty yellow eyes that were watching her with amusement. Her mouth fell open as her vision started to clear more and the familiar, yet still different, face of Amélie came into view. 

She rolled over, pushing herself to her feet to stand before the beautiful woman, her red eyes looking her up and down in disbelief. 

“Amélie? What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Ashe choked, just as her eyes caught the sight of a fist flying towards her face. She leaned back, barely dodging it, grabbed a beer bottle from the bar beside her and smashed it over the owner of the offending fist, not even watching the man sink to the ground before she turned back to Amélie.

“Watching you punch up an entire bar it would seem,” The beautiful woman smirked slyly. 

Ashe frowned back, chewing on the inside of her cheek and lifting her hands to her hips. 

“He started it,” She protested,

  
Amélie nodded, her eyes wide, clearly not buying it. Ashe snorted and rolled her eyes in response. 

“Anyway, let’s get you out of here. Bob?” She reached a hand around the small of Amélie’s back, using her other hand to wave Bob down, who was currently holding the large man who’d knocked her on her ass above his head. His brilliant green eyes snapped over to Ashe and with a nod he threw the man across the room, knocking down a group of men who had been advancing on him with bottles and chair legs in their hands. 

Bob cut through the crowd easily, knocking any to the side who tried to stay in his way. He centred himself in front of the two women, becoming a mech shield as they made their way towards the exit. Ashe kept her hand hovering over Amélie, never touching her but still able to feel the chill that radiated from her skin as they moved.

As they reached the door, Bob kicked it open easily, holding it with one large arm as they stepped out into the street. Somewhere from behind them, someone threw a bottle that smashed off the doorway, missing Amélie’s head by a fraction and Ashe’s head snapped round to glare at a man standing a few feet back, his face filling with instant regret as the large mech in a bowler hat descended on him, leaving Ashe and Amélie alone outside. 

The cold air ruffle Ashe’s hair, making the cuts on her face from the brawl sting slightly but she refused to show it. Not in front of Amélie. 

She took a second to look the mesmerizing woman up and down, her eyes taking in every inch of her. She was wrapped in another tight purple dress, this one shorter than the elegant cocktail dress she’d been wearing the last time she’d seen her. Had that really been six months ago? Not that Ashe had been counting. She wasn’t painfully aware of how long it had been. That would be stupid.

“So, what are ya actually doin’ here?” Ashe managed to get out, as Amélie lifted her hand to lit her cigarette. Her eyes shimmered with the reflection of the flame of her lighter before she closed the metal lid. She glanced over at Ashe as she took a drag, looking her up and down as she let out the faint plume of smoke before she replied. 

“Working,” She said shortly, her accent sending a warm roll through Ashe’s stomach. 

“As what?” Ashe challenged her, looking her up and down again. “Cause I could offer ya some business,” She added with a devilish smirk, which Amélie returned.

“Oh, Ashe. We both know you couldn’t afford me,” She remarked, her lip ticking upwards.

“Can anybody?” Ashe shot back playfully, pulling her own pack of cigarettes from her pocket.

Amélie chuckled, a low sound coming right from her chest, that made Ashe’s own chest hitch under her shirt. She was grateful for the thick leather waistcoat, that was helpfully hiding her hammering heart-rate from sight. 

Ashe flicked her lighter wheel a few times, growling over the cigarette in her teeth when it refused to light. A flame burst into life next to her and her red eyes met yellow ones as Amélie held out her own lighter to her. She smiled around her cigarette, leaning her head forward to let the flame catch the end of it and nodded a thank you as she pulled back, glancing down at the lighter in the woman’s blue hands and raising an eyebrow at her. 

“You kept it then?” Ashe nodded towards the black gas lighter she’d given her as a wedding present all those years ago, its metal body wrapped in elegant golden swirls that shaped into a rose in the centre. 

“Of course I kept it. It’s the only thing you never stole,” Amélie told her gently, a thin, welcoming smile spreading across her purple lips. 

“Not the only thing,” Ashe muttered, pulling her cigarette from her lips and watching the wisp of smoke float in front of her face.

“There’s been other things you haven’t managed to steal?” Amélie pried, leaning forward a fraction, her cold breath brushing off the side of Ashe’s cheek.

“Just the one,” She replied shortly, staring out into the street, only glancing over at the beautiful woman for a split second, but long enough to see the heated look in her eyes. Ashe’s eyes flitted from Amélie’s yellow eyes, the burning in them setting fire to Ashe’s insides, down to her purple lips, her throat going dry as a sand dune when her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. 

Ashe wasn’t aware she’d turned herself until she felt Amélie’s body lined up with hers, the crisp coolness of her skin sinking through her waistcoat and into her ribs, freezing her lungs, stopping her from breathing. Her lids lowered slightly as she watched Amélie lean closer to her, the heels of her boots helping Ashe to match Amélie’s height, bringing them nose to nose. 

Amélie’s cool breath brushed off Ashe’s lips and she felt them part, welcoming the cold breeze as it slipped past her lips, chilling her teeth and making her tongue tingle. She could feel the cigarette fall from her fingers, was sure she could hear the gentle thump of it hitting the concrete at her feet but she didn’t care. The only thing she cared about right now was a hairs width away from her lips, yellow eyes fluttering shut as soft, icy lips barely touched her own.

The sound a car pulling up across the street drifted in the back of Ashe’s mind and she was all for ignoring it until the cold skin that was almost pressed against her lips was gone, leaving something even colder in its wake. 

Ashe’s eyes snapped open to see Amélie had taken a step back, her eyes no longer closed and less than an inch from Ashe’s face, but instead focused and narrowed on the car that has parked outside a hotel on the other side of the street. Ashe turned her head, glaring murderously at the sleek black car that had interrupted them. 

Before she could open her mouth to say anything, Amélie was turning to face the street, brushing her slender blue hands over her dress to straighten it and Ashe scowled, biting back any emotions she’d accidentally let slip a moment ago, burying them down like she’d done for years. 

_Back in the box, you go_ , Ashe thought.

Amélie turned her head slightly, not enough to face Ashe but enough their eyes met.

“Au revoir, Ashe,” She nodded shortly before she strutted across the street, swinging her hips a little more than was natural for her. 

Ashe watched in silence, chewing on her tongue aggressively, watching Amélie slip around the car and make her way to the hotel door. She stepped in front of a tall man in a suit, it was always a man in a fucking suit with her, who politely stopped, stepped back and held the door open for her. 

Ashe’s lip curled when she saw, even from a distance, the telltale signs of Amélie putting on the charm. She lifted her shoulder, timidly pretending to shy away from the man, batted her long lashes and bowed her head in thanks, her lips moving slowly as she spoke to him. Ashe could just imagine that little sing-song voice she used when she was trying to play sweet. 

Behind her Bob came barrelling out of the bar, the noise of the brawl that had apparently still been going on this whole time attacking Ashe’s ears, making her winch. He straightened himself up and his eyes looked around Ashe before moving to look across to the hotel door, where Amélie was now being ushered inside, the man putting his hands on her lower back as he followed in behind her, waving his two security guards off. 

Ashe growled in the back of her throat. The fucking bastard had the audacity to touch her. He had no right. 

With a grunt she glared up at the silent Bob who was blinking down at her and snorted, rolling her eyes at him.

“No, I fucking don’t. And don’t say that shit again,” Ashe snapped, turning to stomp down the street, aiming to find another bar, and hopefully another woman, to take her mind off of the one woman she always seemed to be losing to men in fucking stupid suits.


	4. Uneven Score

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe and the Deadlock gang are waiting to raid a passing military train, but someone else has their eyes on the same prize.

Ashe took a drag from her cigarette as she checked her rifle for the sixth time since she’d taken up her position on the edge of the cliff. She exhaled the puff of smoke as her teeth clenched gently on the butt of the cigarette, her hat hooked over her knee as she glanced over her shoulder, her red eyes scanning the train tracks below her. 

Her and her boys were waiting on the military train, which was loaded with high-grade explosives. The good kind. The ones that Ashe liked the best. They made a lot of noise and did a lot of damage, which would come in handy for the job they had lined up after this one. 

“Howdy,” a thickly accented voice purred in her ear and Ashe whirled around, her cigarette falling from her teeth as she brought her rifle up and aimed it at the blue lips smirking down at her. Amélie’s yellow eyes glinted as she raised a single eyebrow at the barrel of the rifle. 

Ashe scowled, dragging her eyes away from Amélie’s eyes long enough to look her up and down. She was wearing a painfully skintight purple bodysuit. Not painful for Amélie, she looked fairly comfortable, but painful for Ashe. The offensively deep split in the front had Ashe repressing a growl in her throat and ignoring the fire burning in her abdomen. Amélie’s long raven black ponytail fluttered in the breeze from underneath a heavy-looking helmet, dotted with glaring red sights, her left arm was covered in very professional looking armour. 

Red eyes caught the sight of a large, glossy black rifle being held behind her back as Amélie leaned forward, giving Ashe an eye full of her exposed chest and Ashe struggled to keep herself from staring.

Ashe cocked a black eyebrow up at the beautiful woman, a snarl forming on her lips.

“What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?” Ashe demanded bitingly, not lowering her gun from the woman’s smug face.

“Working. And you?” She asked slyly, her eyes narrowing at the gang leader a fraction.

“Working? There’s not any fancy bastards in suits here for you to run off with Elie,” Ashe remarked, her tone icy. She was maybe still bitter about their last encounter. It didn’t matter that it was four months ago. She was still pissed.

“Hilarious. But I’m not here for a man in a suit. I’m here for the train,” She clarified.

“And how exactly are you planning on seducing a train into fucking you?” Ashe quizzed her sarcastically.

“Classy. As always Ashe. No. I am here for the cargo, Chérie,” Amélie corrected her, cocking her head to the side, her ponytail falling over her shoulder.

Ashe’s lip curled upwards as she lowered her gun, leaping to her feet to glare down at her. Amélie straightened herself, bringing herself to her full height, looking down her thin nose at Ashe.

“Like hell you are! That cargo’s ours!” Ashe half yelled, squaring her shoulders as she leaned forward, her eyebrows dented furiously.

“Au contraire my dear Elizabeth-” Amélie dragged a finger down Ashe’s waistcoat.

“Don’t call me that,” Ashe interrupted her with a growl, batting her blue fingers away harshly.

“I need the cargo for my employer. And I never go back empty-handed,” Amélie hummed playfully, her purple lips twisting upwards in amusement.

“So you’re here to make sure I’m left with nothing? As usual?” Ashe bit back, biting down on her tongue to stop herself saying something more. 

“It was not my intention, I assure you,” Something in her eyes softened slightly and for a split second Ashe thought she was going to say something else but before she got the chance Ashe snorted.

“Right. It’s just an added bonus?” Ashe pointed out coldly.

“Meaning?” Amélie raised an eyebrow at her, her smug smile faltering.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Regardless, this score is mine. Go find your own,” Ashe jerked her head to the left, towards the road. 

“I can’t do that,” Amélie shook her head gently, her piercing eyes never leaving Ashe’s. “I have a job to do. And if I go back without what I was sent here for...” She trailed off, blinking abruptly, her eyes losing focus for a second before she righted herself and forced a thin smile. “I can’t do that,” She repeated. 

Ashe looked her up and down, curiosity bubbling at the back of her throat. But she was in no mood for whatever was bothering Amélie today. The train would be there soon and she needed to get rid of the blue-skinned beauty before it showed up. 

“Listen ‘ere,” Ashe stated, poking a black painted fingernail into Amélie’s armoured shoulder, nudging it backwards. “Me and my boys have worked hard for this and we need those fucking explosives for another job. I ain’t losing two fucking jobs to a-”

“Explosives? Oh no, Belle, I’m only here for the gold,” Amélie explained simply, Ashe’s insides squirming at being called beautiful in French. It had been a long time since anyone had dared give her a compliment, let alone one that sounded so ... pleasant.

“Gold?” Ashe repeated cautiously. “You’re only here for the gold?”

“Oui,” Amélie nodded. 

“Well then... I think we might be able to come to an understanding,” Ashe smirked back. 

“That would be preferable. I really wasn’t looking forward to fighting you over this,” Amélie confessed.

The two women eyed each other, Ashe becoming aware of how close they had actually gotten during their spat. Their bodies were almost touching now, both women holding their weapons loosely at their sides. 

“So... We work together on this. You take yer gold, we take the rest?” Ashe suggested in a whisper, her breath catching in her throat. Amélie nodded, her eyes never leaving hers.

“Oui,” She breathed.

“And then you’ll vanish off into the sunset and leave me on the side of the train tracks wondering what I could have said to make you stay?” Ashe’s voice was low, her throat threatening to close on her at any minute. 

Amélie’s eyes dropped to Ashe’s lips and lingered there for a moment longer than was wise. Ashe could feel her body try to lean forward, felt her chin tilt upwards to try and close the distance as her heart hammered in her gut, sending vibrations through her legs and into her boots. 

The sound of a train horn broke them both apart, both woman loudly clearing their throat. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Amélie nodded, not making eye contact. “Shall we?” She added. 

Ashe nodded in response and felt her mouth fall open when Amélie lifted her wrist, firing a grappling hook towards the bridge the train was loudly heading for. She flew out of Ashe’s vision and off towards the tracks, leaving Ashe to glare at the rock face. 

She took in a deep breath to steady herself, pushed every thought of the blue-skinned woman from her mind and turned, balancing her rifle over the back of a rock and squinted down her sight watching for the train. 

Today had taken an explosive turn and she hadn’t even got the damn explosives yet.

*******

They had managed to stop the train as planned, Bob blocking the track in the middle of the bridge, forcing the driver to make an emergency stop. Then Ashe and her boys had climbed the outside, some heading into the driver's cabin to tie him up and stop him driving off until they were done, another stalking across the roof with their guns raised to deal with the armed guards that were no doubt about to show up.

She had briefly noticed Amélie dart alongside the train, her heels clicking quietly as she gracefully flitted across the tracks, perfectly balanced, heading straight for the cargo carriage and Ashe had briefly wondered how the former ballerina princess had somehow got herself a gig as a thief. She used to be so against Ashe’s way of life, and yet here she was, doing the exact same thing Ashe had been doing for years. The exact same thing Amélie had claimed she could never live with. The reason she’d picked him over Ashe.

Ashe could say she wasn’t bitter, but that was only because she was an expert liar. She could also say she was not hung up on the raven-haired woman. Again, only because she was good at lying through her teeth, even to herself sometimes. 

Her boots thudded off the roof of the train as she slowly stalked across its metal casing, two of her men running off ahead, one climbing down the ladder to secure the cabin from inside. 

The second man jumped to get across the gap between the two train cars. A gunshot came from behind Ashe, something whizzing past her ear almost instantly and mid-jump the gang member’s body went limp, his arms and legs flopping weakly, his gun falling from his hands as he fell in-between the gap and Ashe heard him land with a loud bang. 

She stopped, one foot still hovering above the roof as she heard the faint click of a gun being cocked behind her. 

“Drop the gun and raise your hands above your head,” a gruff, slightly shaky voice said over her shoulder. Ashe turned her head a fraction, catching a glimpse of the armed guard behind her, his hands wrapped around his rifle like a lifeline. 

Ashe lifted her hands up, holding her rifle in one hand next to her head, still peaking at the man behind her, who’s hands were trembling around his own gun. 

“I said “drop the gun” lady,” He barked, his voice cracking in the wind. 

“This ‘er is a family heirloom. I ain’t “dropping it” anywhere pal,” She remarked over her shoulder. 

“Do as I say or you’re under arrest!” The guard threatened and Ashe chuckled.

“So you saying if I do drop the gun I can go on my merry way?” She challenged him, watching as his mouth fell open slightly as he tried to think of a response.

“I... well no you’re under arrest anyway but-”

“Would I be under more arrest?” Ashe teased, inching her finger up towards the trigger of her rifle. This guy was fresh, just out training camp judging by his nervousness. Which meant his reflexes weren’t trained properly. The shot on her boy was possibly a fluke. If she could get him distracted enough, she could catch him off guard, pun not intended, and take him down before he could get his shaky hands back on the trigger.

Half a second later and it didn’t matter. Something whistled past her ear, brushing against the collar of her shirt and making the tiniest tear in the cloth before it connected with a soft thud right in-between the guards eyes. His head snapped backwards, his eyes crossing over as he flopped backwards, landing flat on his back and his gun falling off the roof of the train.

Ashe’s eyes snapped around to meet narrowed yellow irises looking over the top of a sniper rifle, pointed directly at her from two cars down. Amélie cocked her head to the side before blowing Ashe a dramatic kiss and slipping out of view, down into the train car. 

Ashe cursed herself quietly before she righted her gun, gave the dead guard one last glare over her shoulder and stomped across the train roof to the cargo carriage. 

_Wonderful. Now I owe her one. Fucking wonderful_ , Ashe grumbled to herself. 

She jumped over the gap between cars, glancing down at her dead gang member and sighing as she passed him but kept on her way. She didn’t have time to stop right now. 

Ashe climbed down into the cargo train, just as two more of her men came in the connecting door behind her. 

“We lost Tod,” Ashe told them flatly. Both men hung their heads for a moment before they both looked back up at her and nodding. One of them eyed Amélie with caution but didn’t say a word, all of her men having been told just before the train arrived that the “blue lady in spandex” was going to be on their side for this job. No one had questioned it.

“We’ll have a drink for him after,” One of them said from under his bandanna wrapped around his face. 

Ashe nodded in agreement before she turned her attention to the rest of the room. Amélie was already pulling a crate lid open, tossing the heavy looking plastic to the side with ease. 

“Right boys. Get your hands on as many of the explosive crates as you can. The gold belongs to the Ice Queen over there,” Ashe jerked her chin over at Amélie, who turned her head to glare at her new nickname before turning back to the crate at her feet.

The two men nodded, slipping past Amélie and began opening boxes to check their contents. Ashe crossed the car and pulled open the train door that lined the wall with a loud rattling groan, locking it in place. The train had stopped earlier enough on the bridge that the back end of the train, where they were, was still next to level ground, leading right down to their stolen truck where their reward was going to be loaded into. 

Ashe stood quietly by the open door, her rifle in her hand, her red eyes scanning the area as she waited for the two men in the train to shuffle out with a box between them. 

As they struggled towards the truck, Bob came up the side of the train, blinking up at her in silence. 

“Could have been worse,” She shrugged down at him, patting him on the shoulder before she turned towards Amélie who had found her target and was pulling a small black device out of a compartment in her armoured forearm. 

Ashe stepped up behind her, tilting her head to the side to watch as Amélie picked up one of the many gold bars from the open box in front of her, held the black device to it and waited. A second passed and the device gave off a single beep before flashing red. 

Amélie muttered something to herself in french before she tossed the bar over her shoulder, letting it hit the floor with a loud thud. 

“Oi! Watch it!” Ashe snapped, stepped around to lean her elbow on the open crate. “I thought you wanted to the darn gold?” Ashe pointed out coldly. 

“I wanted the crate with the gold, oui,” Amélie nodded, not looking up as she brought another gold bar out of the box and up to the device. 

Ashe watched Amélie in silence, her eyebrow raised curiously as the woman picked up one bar at a time, held it to the little black box and proceeded to throw it over her shoulder elegantly when the device only beeped once. 

More of her men came in, eyed the two women strangely but said nothing as they continued to unload the other crates out of the train and into the truck waiting for them. 

Amélie paid neither the men nor Ashe any attention as she made her way through the gold bars. Once she was about halfway through the box, her device in her hands finally found a bar it seemed to like, beeping three times and the light turning green. 

A thin, hopeful smile spread across her purple lips and Ashe watched her as she turned the gold bar over, slide her thin fingers over the bottom of it, pushing down hard until the back clicked open to reveal a tiny black microchip, no bigger than a dime snuggled hidden inside it. Her thin smile turned into a satisfied grin as her eyes widened at the sight of it.

Amélie removed the chip, held it between two fingers and slipped it into the compartment in her forearm. 

“That’s it?” Ashe pointed at her forearm in disbelief. 

“Oui. That was all I needed,” Amélie shrugged, rounding the corner of the crate and coming right up to Ashe’s face. 

The leader of the Deadlock gang straightened herself to her full height but it still wasn’t enough to match Amélie fully, but that didn’t stop he tilting her head back to look down her nose at her.

“Is it important?” Ashe asked, narrowing her eyes at her as Amélie looked her over, her face barely an inch from hers.

“Very,” Amélie nodded. 

“Hmm. I might want it then,” Ashe smirked, her lip ticking upwards. 

“You think you could take it from me?” Amélie crooned quietly, her eyes going over Ashe’s body as she leaned forward, forcing Ashe to arch herself backwards, having to reach up with one hand to stop her hat from falling off. 

“I could try,” Ashe breathed, her own eyes wandering down Amélie slender neck, and down her chest. Did she have to wear something so distractingly revealing?

“You could. I would not advise it though, Chérie,” Amélie muttered quietly, her own lips twitching as she caught where Ashe’s eyes were lingering. 

“Why not?” Ashe pried quietly, her eyes travelling back up to meet Amélie’s.

“It would not end well for you,” Amélie reasoned, running a cold hand down Ashe’s shoulder, making the cowgirl’s entire body shiver involuntarily. 

“It never fuckin’ does,” She pointed out dryly, her lower back aching from being pressed up against one of the crates. 

“True. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to vanish into the sunset and leave you on the side of the train tracks, wondering what you could have said to make me stay,” Amélie hitched an eyebrow at her as she repeated Ashe’s own words from earlier back to her. Somehow they sounded so much more beautiful and sombre coming from Amélie’s lips. 

Ashe said nothing as Amélie took a step back, bowing a farewell before she lifted her arm and pointed it out of the open train door. 

“Au revoir, Ashe,” She breathed, almost too quiet as she shot her grappling hook from her arm and lurched out the open train door. 

And Ashe was left once again cursing and missing that dark-haired woman into the damn ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to anyone who's read this fic so far! I am damn well loving this ship so guess what's going to becoming a recurring feature on this page? Yep!
> 
> If anyone wants to come say hi you can find me on 
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> 
> I even opened up the Ask Me Anything part of tumblr for anyone whos shy but still wants to ask anything!


	5. Corrupted Holovid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Widowmaker has a job to do, and when it's done she takes a moment to herself.

The agent known as Widowmaker waited patiently on the dark rooftop as the faint breeze swing her ponytail out behind her. Her target, a German politician who advocated for Mech Rights, would be leaving his hotel soon, ready to head to his rally to give a “groundbreaking” speech on how he was going to make Mech Rights legitimate should he be elected later this month. Widowmaker was there to make sure he never made that speech. 

Her employer, the terrorist organization Talon, wanted to make sure the man with a steady lead in the polls was silenced. He was well on his way to bringing some level of peace to the people of Germany and their mechanical neighbours and Talon just couldn’t have that.

The door to the hotel foyer opened, Widowmakers visor coming to life and covering her face with a faint buzz as two large bodyguards in black suits and aviators sauntered out onto the sidewalk, fingers pressed to their earpieces as they spoke into them, checking up and down the empty street. Neither of them were smart enough to look up, not that it mattered, as even if they had they wouldn’t have been able to spot Widowmaker as she leaned into the scope of her rifle, poised perfectly over the edge of the roof.

Once the bodyguards were sure the street was empty and for all intents and purposes safe, one of them stepped back to open the door again, holding it open as a slim, finely suited man strutted out, a femme looking Mech under his arm. 

The blue-skinned assassin on the rooftop smirked into the night.

He smiled widely as he waved for the Mech to get in the car first, while his second bodyguard held the car door open for them both.

Widowmaker took her aim, zoning in on her target, locking her sights on the space between his eyes. As the Mech in front of him ducked into the car, giving Widowmaker a clean shot, she slowly and confidently pulled the trigger, her armoured shoulder jostling slightly from the recoil, her ears ringing slightly from the sound of the rifle going off. 

She watched just long enough to see the man’s head snap back as he fell onto the concrete, a newly formed hole in his skull. She briefly registered the single solid thud in her chest at the confirmation of the kill.

The assassin didn’t wait around to watch the ensuing commotion, clicking her earpiece to report the job was done before letting her sniper rifle fold down into a more compact assault rifle as she turned on her heel and bolted across the roof, outstretching her arm and firing her grappling hook out and swinging across to another building, not looking back as she made her way out of the main part of the city. 

She continued like that for a while, keeping a trained, steady pace as she darted over rooftops, leaping and zip-lining her away across the city until she reached her destination, an abandoned apartment building set for demolition at the end of the month. 

The cold, empty room was silent, paint feeling off the cracked, graffiti-covered walls, the sound of water dripping from somewhere further down the barren hallway, moonlight the only light source as it poured in through a single, empty window pane, the glass long since smashed to pieces on the dirty concrete floor.

Widowmaker checked her surroundings, making sure she had not been followed purely from habit, knowing full well she hadn’t been. 

She slinked into her previously chosen place of rest, gently placing her rifle against the peeling wall of the room before she threw herself down onto the dirty mattress that was to be her bed until such time as Talon could send an extraction. 

Widowmaker sighed up at the ceiling before she reached up to pull a small holovid player from the compartment in her armoured forearm. She blinked in the darkness as she clicked the button to open it, the fuzzy blue footage coming to life before her yellow eyes. 

The video had no sound, having been salvaged from corrupted files years ago, the original device it had been kept on so badly damaged not even her favourite hacker could get the audio files back for her. She watched as a blue-tinted image of a dark-haired woman dancing in an empty ballet studio lit up in her hands. 

She was good. Better than most. The way she turned and twirled with ease, made it look like second nature to her. A door opened in the background and a long-haired woman sauntered in and leaned against the door frame as she folded her arms across her chest. The woman by the door and watched the dark-haired woman dance, a thin smile on her dark lips. 

The smile widened when the dancer stopped mid-spin and dropped from her toes, leaping across the room into the watcher's arms. Her arm wrapped around the dancer's slim waist and held her in place as she laughed with her, leaning to kiss her gently on the forehead before she pulled her into a proper embrace. 

They two stood by the door, talking for a moment, their lips moving but no sound playing from the broken video. They were too far into the background for Widowmaker’s lip-reading skills to work. She watched in silence as the watcher jerked her head towards the door, beckoning the dancer to go with her. The dancer held a single finger up to her face, clearly asking her to wait. 

The other woman smiled, kissing her index finger and letting go of her waist. The dancer turned and skipped across the studio, directly towards the source of the recording. As she leaned down to turn it off, the watcher appeared again at her shoulder, having chased her across the room and wrapped her arms around her waist again. 

She softly leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, leaving a darkened lipstick stain on her skin. The dancer smiled, her skin darkening as she blushed just as she turned the video off, just as Widowmaker swallowed back a lump in her throat. 

Widowmaker let the video splutter and fade back into the holovid player with a buzz. 

She ignored the strange feeling in her chest, one she used to know so well but was now foreign to her.

The feeling she always got whenever she saw the long-haired woman, who despite the blue tinge of the holovid, she knew was white-haired and red-lipped. 

The feeling of her heart beating just a little too fast. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is shorter!!! But it'll all be worth it for the next chapter!! ;) Promise


	6. Fuck Off Amélie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe has had the worst day. She lost a big score, Bob's all busted up and Mcree stole her bike. The last thing she needs right now is more problems. So of course, more problems show up.

Ashe kicked the door to the quiet inn open, stormed across the wooden floor loudly and threw herself down at the bar, a murderous scowl carved into her face. She paid no mind to the other patrons who were eyeing her with a mixture of concern and caution in their eyes. 

She growled her drink order at the barman as he approached her and he scuttled off to fetch it, leaving her glaring at the many bottles that lined the back of the small bar. 

_ That fucking Mcree. Damn bastard.  _

Ashe’s lip curled as his name crossed her mind. The prick had ruined their score, fucked up her men, broken Bob again, which was costing her an unsightly amount of money to fix and taken her fucking bike. When she got her hands on him she was going to rip off his other arm and shove it down his smug little fucking throat. 

As the barman came back with a glass in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other, Ashe lifted her head to face him.

“Oi. This place got any rooms left?”

“Aye, a few,” He informed her, placing the glass down in front of her.

“Gimme one,” She muttered, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small stack of bills, sliding them across the bar to him. 

The barman nodded, putting the opened whiskey bottle down to pick up the money. As his stubby fingers curled around the money, Ashe’s own hand darted out and grabbed the whiskey bottle. His dark green eyes shot to her face, his mouth opening to say something but he quickly closed it again when she raised a daring eyebrow at him. 

“Top of the stairs, second door on the right. Doors unlocked,” He muttered, lifting his hand to point towards the staircase. Ashe nodded in response, pouring herself a generous amount of whiskey into the glass before she slammed the bottle down onto the bar next to her and grunted in thanks.

The barman scurried off, shoving the money into the cash register down the bar. 

She went back to glaring at the bottles behind the bar, tilting her head back to pour the bitter liquid down her throat in a oner. Ashe poured herself another glass as she ran her tongue across her teeth. 

Ashe was about to take another drink when a cold hand placed itself on her shoulder and a soft, heavily accented voice sounded behind her.

“Bonjour Ashe,” the voice breathed sweetly. Ashe didn’t need to look round to know who the voice belonged to because of course she would show up now. Just in time to make Ashe’s day even worse. Well she wasn’t having any of it today.

“Fuck off Amélie,” She barked, lifting her glass to her lips as she heard a gasp from her left.

“Excusez Moi?” Amélie muttered, and Ashe could hear the scowl on her pretty face. 

“Do I ‘ave a fuckin’ stutter?” She grunted, still not looking around. 

“That is no way to speak to a friend, chérie,” Amélie purred, sliding her cold hand down Ashe’s arm. Ashe shrugged it off aggressively and took another drink from her glass. 

“You aren’t a friend,” Ashe snarled.

“Oh? Then what am I?” Amélie asked playfully.

“A pain in the damn ass that I am in no mood for today,” Ashe bit back, emptying her glass into her mouth. 

She hissed loudly as the liquor burned her throat.

“Now go away,” Ashe added icily. “Save me the time and go run off with some rich bloke in a suit. That’s all you’re good for,” she reached out and grabbed the neck of the whiskey bottle, skipping the middle man and lifting it directly to her lips.

She could feel the woman’s yellow eyes glowering into the back of her skull as she swallowed hard, forcing the booze down her throat. Amélie wasn’t leaving and for the first time in her life Ashe wished she would.

Red eyes rolled, infuriated at being ignored and she pushed herself off the bar, taking the bottle with her as she turned to face Amélie. Her brow furrowed as she looked her dead in the eye and leaned forward to hiss in her face. Amélie was glaring at her, her purple lips pursed painfully, showing every line and crease in them through her lipstick, her slender arms folded across her chest tightly. 

She was wearing a dark blue dress, that clung to her chest and torso but fanned out beautifully once it reached her hips, hanging gently around her thighs. Ashe tried to ignore how damn stunning she looked. 

“Why am I not surprised you ain’t listenin’? You never fuckin’ do. Fine,” She snorted and took another drink. Maybe if she drank more Amélie would disappear faster. “I’ll do the vanishing act then. So kind of you to let me have a go,” She swung her arm out, before she shoved past the pissed off looking beauty, making sure to smash her un-armoured shoulder against her. The brief contact sent a shiver up her shoulder that settled in the back of her neck. 

She ignored that too as she stomped towards the stairs. 

The click-clack of Amélie’s heels followed behind her.

“Why would you speak to me like that? I would never talk to you like that!” Amélie snapped behind her as Ashe’s free hand wrapped around the banister. 

“No. You just pop up out of nowhere, kick me in the fuckin’ gut and then prance off like a damn gazelle being chased by poachers. You barely fuckin’ talk at all,” Ashe pointed out bitingly, taking the stairs two at a time in a desperate attempt to distance herself from the woman. 

It was in vain though as Amélie and her ridiculously long legs managed to keep up with Ashe easily. A growl escaped the back of Ashe’s throat as she reached the top of the stairs and headed towards her room. 

Amélie followed her in silence, but Ashe could hear the sound of her grinding her teeth in silent rage as Ashe tried to ignore her.

She reached her room, wrapped her fingers around the handle and shoved it open with her shoulder, slamming it shut without looking back, letting it rattle in the door frame, finally separating her from Amélie. Her sigh of relief was cut short however when the door was thrown open and a furious looking Amélie came barrelling in, slamming it closed behind her.

Ashe’s lip curled, bearing her teeth as she clenched them tight and she reached up to drag a hand down her face before she closed her eyes tightly. She silently willed the woman away, hoped that when she opened her eyes she’d be gone and Ashe would be alone to drown herself in her misery. Misery that was only partly because of Amélie this time. 

“Quel est ton putain de problème?” Amélie hissed at her in French and Ashe let out a rush of air, puffing up her cheeks in exasperation. 

“English,” She demanded shortly. 

“What is your fucking problem?” Amelie seethed in English, her accent thicker now that she was mad and she folded her arms across her chest again.

The rage that was boiling in Ashe’s chest finally boiled over as she rounded on Amélie, gripping the neck of her whiskey bottle to try stop her hands from shaking, not that it helped much.

“You! You are my fucking problem!” She roared taking a step forward and pointing a trembling accusatory finger at the woman scowling at her.

“What do you mean by that? Amélie rolled her eyes, clearly unaffected by Ashe’s outburst. There she went, not caring again, just like always and it only added fuel to the fire burning in Ashe’s chest.

“I mean you are a problem,” Ashe yelled, throwing her arms out around her, the booze in her hand sloshing against the glass as she took a step forward while she let the anger in her finally burst out, words coming out of her mouth before she had time to think. “A living breathing problem that won't stop haunting me!”

Ashe took another step forward as she slammed the bottle down on a small table to her left, not caring when it toppled over, spilling whiskey over the wood and trickling down into the carpet.

“If you aren’t in every fuckin’ passing thought you are standing in front of me, opening up old wounds, pouring ten pounds of salt into it then sewing it shut and swinging away!” Ashe’s throat cracked, her words coming out strangled as she continued her advance on Amélie, unchecked fury roaring through her mind as she kept moving, her boots thudding loudly off the carpet, not registering the change in Amélie’s stance, or the shift in her expression as Ashe got closer to her.

“You are a never-ending god damn problem that is always too fuckin’ far away for me to fix!” Ashe’s voice was strained, husky from her frenzied state. She’d had enough. She couldn’t take it any more. This woman, the way she made Ashe feel was all too much. She wasn’t strong enough for this. She needed it to stop. 

It was then that she realised just how much she had moved during her screaming fit. She was now almost nose to nose with Amélie, who was now pressed up against the hotel door, her eyes wild as she looked at Ashe, her lips parted slightly.

“Then fix it,” Amélie breathed, her cold breath brushing against Ashe’s lips as the sound of the lock clicked next to her. Ashe’s eyes darted down to see Amélie’s fingers let go of the tiny lock on the handle before they drifted back up to her yellow eyes that were roaring with something Ashe hadn’t seen in them since they were hazel. 

Without thinking, Ashe grabbed Amélie’s face in her hands, the chill running up her forearms as she pulled her across the last inch between them, crushing their lips together. Amélie’s hands immediately snaked around Ashe’s waist, pulling her body flush against her own. 

Ashe parted her lips and let the chill of Amélie’s lips fill her mouth, drinking it in like it was the finest whiskey. She felt Amélie moan and she swallowed it, gripping her face tighter as she pressed herself against her, hearing a thud as Amélie’s back hit the door but she didn’t care. 

Kissing her felt the same and different at the same time. It still sent shivers down Ashe’s spine but now those shivers were deeper, shaking her bones as the euphoric feeling of Amélie’s mouth on hers was heightened by the iciness of her skin, the coolness of her tongue against Ashe’s. 

Amélie’s long leg lifted, wrapping itself around Ashe’s waist as her hands moved, trailing around to her chest, blindly tugging at her waistcoat. Ashe let go of Amélie’s face but kept their mouths locked as she rolled her shoulder, helping Amélie get it, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy thump. 

Ashe pulled back just for a second, taking in a desperate breath before she slammed her lips back against Amélie’s with a guttural moan. She felt Amélie’s fingers crawl up her chest, curling around her tie and yanking on it harshly, pulling Ashe closer still. Ashe smirked against her lips, placing one hand on the woman’s knee, the other one gripping her fine hip and digging her fingers in gently.

As she ran her hand along Amélie’s leg, quickly making her way up underneath her dress, Amélie pulled back their kiss to moan quietly in Ashe’s ear, sending a burning shiver down into her gut as she planted harsh, desperate kisses down Amélie’s throat, leaving smudged red lipstick stains against her skin. 

Amélie reached a single hand up and dragged her nails along the top of her back, and Ashe could feeling them scraping through her shirt. Which right now was feeling horribly cumbersome, a thought that Amélie clearly shared as she reached her other hand up and began unbuttoning it eagerly, snarling lightly when the buttons didn’t co-operate as fast as she’d like. 

Ashe kissed Amélie’s collarbone before she pulled her head back, panting as she watched Amélie pull at her shirt, taking great amusement at her growing frustration. 

“Need help?” Ashe purred against Amélie’s throat, feeling the vibrations as the woman growled again, louder this time. Ashe leaned her head back again just as Amélie let out a faint moan before she removed her hand from Ashe’s hair and grabbed her shirt with both hands and tore it open. Ashe’s lip curled up in a smirk as Amélie licked her lips, her eyes tracing the edge of Ashe’s red bra. 

Without warning, Amélie bowed her head, bringing her lips against the flesh of one of Ashe’s breasts, her cold lips making Ashe’s heart flutter dangerously. Her head fell back involuntarily as her fingers curled against Amélie’s thigh under her dress. 

Her nails bit into Amélie’s skin and she felt Amélie’s teeth dig into the top of her breast in response. Ashe hissed, her head snapping up to glare at her and was met with devilish yellow eyes watching her, as Amélie’s tongue darted out to lick at the purple rimmed teeth marks on Ashe’s skin. 

Ashe’s straightened herself, forcing Amélie to lean back against the door with a gasp and she captured her lips in her own again, moaning against her tongue as her fingers explored further up her leg, finally reaching their goal and Ashe wasted no time in hooking her fingers underneath the thin lacy fabric that covered Amélie’s core. 

Amélie let out a soft whimper as Ashe dragged the flat of her fingers against her, only stopping to trace delicate circles around her hooded clit. Ashe inhaled through her teeth as Amélie tried to grind herself downwards, desperate to find some purchase against Ashe’s fingers. With a broken exhale, Ashe complied, giving her what she wanted as she slid a single finger inside her, letting her thumb press against her harshly. 

The sound of Amélie cursing in French in Ashe’s ear spurred her on, as she crept a second finger into her, pressing her mouth to Amélie’s again as the woman’s breath hitched in her throat. Ashe working her fingers inside the beautiful, panting woman in a steady rhythm, feeling her own heart rate thunder in her ears in reaction to every sound that came from Amélie’s lips. 

Amélie bucked against her hand, her body hitting against the door behind her but Ashe didn’t care. She had no intention of stopping now that she had this woman in her hands. Her brain was clouded with the moment, nothing else mattered outside of what was happened at that exact minute, there was no one else in the world. No one but Amélie.

She kissed down the side of Amélie’s throat, reaching up with her free hand to curl her fingers into her hair, tugging her head backwards so she could get better access to her. She kissed her hard, before she pulled her lips back and bit into her neck, nipping at her first before swiping her tongue across her skin and then biting down, harder this time, leaving darkened marks along her neck.

The sound of Amélie moaning made her look up, watching her from hooded eyes, taking in every bend and curve of her face, her neck, the chest as it lifted with every pant that came from her lips. 

Amélie pushed herself down further and Ashe could feel the unforgettable feeling of the woman slowly reaching her climax. It was one of the many things about her that had seared itself into her brain all those years ago. 

The one leg she was standing on began to tremble and Ashe brought her hand from her hair and hooked it around her perfectly shaped ass, holding her up against the door as she increased the pace of her other hand, as she felt the inside of Amélie tighten and squirm at her fingertips. Ashe pressed herself against her, almost welding their bodies together as she pressed their lips together again, nipping at Amélie’s bottom lip. 

She paid attention to her, to every hitch in her breath, listened carefully as her breathing increased, becoming shallow as she teetered on the edge, she felt every twitch in her body as she struggled to hold on. Amélie always liked trying to fight this, either out of spite, never wanting to give Ashe the satisfaction or in some attempt to make it last longer. She enjoyed the anticipation, loved being almost there but not quite finished. And Ashe took great pleasure in forcing her through it, pushing her over the edge against her will. 

“Ne t'arrête pas,” Amélie gasped into Ashe’s ear. She knew that one. _Don’t stop._

“Wasn’t planning on it sweetheart,” Ashe breathed back against Amélie’s lips.

Ashe pushed her fingers deep into Amélie, curling them just enough to hit her sweet spot. Amélie’s eyes flew open as she cried out, her entire body shaking against Ashe as she clutched desperately at the cowgirls back, her fingers digging through her shirt again, pulling a satisfied exhale from Ashe as she grinned at her.

Amélie’s head fell forward, gently landing against Ashe’s shoulder as she panted hard, struggling to get her breath back as Ashe leaned her cheek against the woman’s head. Ashe waited patiently, trying to steady her own breathing as Amélie’s cold breath hit against her chest.

When the woman finally looked up, her yellow eyes slightly hazy, she scanned Ashe’s face for a moment, almost as if she was struggling to believe what had just happened. 

“You alright there?” Ashe chuckled, still holding most of Amélie’s weight in her hands.

“Oui,” She nodded breathlessly, swallowing hard before she licked her lips, her eyes darkening wickedly, sending a burning wave through Ashe’s gut. “But we are uneven,” she pointed out coyly, her thin eyebrows twitching suggestively.

“Oh are we? Well that seems very unfair,” Ashe drawled back.

“Let me fix it,” Amélie purred as she wrapped her fingers around Ashe’s tie and slipped around her on slightly shaky legs while she dragged the sniggering criminal towards the bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I ended up ending it on smut. Oop?
> 
> First of all: Thank you to literally anyone who read this! If you have ANY thoughts on it please let me know!   
> Also I am thoroughly invested in this ship so I will most defiently be making more content for it I can promise you that!  
> (I have a few things planned! One of which may get started today!)  
> Thank you again! and if anyone wants to say Hi, ask any questions about this fic or any others (past, present or future) feel free to hit me up on   
> [ TUMBLR](https://koreartfanfic.tumblr.com/) OR [ TWITTER](https://twitter.com/KoreArtFanFic)
> 
> Have a wonderful day and thank you much for reading! Until the next Ouihaw fic (Which will be soon!)


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